Chapter 10: Tentacles!

Ron and I let out robust yells of manly terror as the engine died on us. I may never have applied myself academically but I'm no fool: I'm well aware of the effect of hitting water at speed, especially in a car. If Hermione had been with us, we might have had a chance, through her superior skill – although of course, if she had been with us we wouldn't have got into the situation anyway. As it was, we were surely doomed.

That was when I noticed the boats below us.

It was the first years. I hadn't realised we were so far ahead of the Express, and I took an insane moment to muse approvingly of the Ford's turn of speed. Then I realised that in a couple of seconds we were going to smash straight into about twenty sixteen year olds. Now I'd be the first to admit that I'm a bastard – a complete bastard, as a matter of fact – but I hope I've already impressed upon you that bastard or not, I do have some standards (I won't say morals, because really). I might be about to die, but I wasn't going to take innocent kids with me. Imagine the headlines, after all.

I will admit that I did flirt with the idea of steering the car towards Hagrid. He was a big enough target, and the imbecile deserved it after the scare he had given me prior to my arrival at Hogwarts.

I leant over and wrenched the wheel away from Ron, who was still gibbering inanely. Well, that's a little unfair; I was feeling much the same myself, but I was damned if I was going to disgrace myself in front of him. As I tried to pull the car to the left, hitting the ignition as hard as I could in the vain hope it might kick-start the engine, I screamed at him:

"Ron! Damn it man, concentrate! Do you know any spells – anything – that might help?"

He just sank into his seat, closing his eyes and awaiting the inevitable with a quiet little whimper. Pathetic. With one almighty effort, I succeeded in rebooting the engine. The car began to flicker in and out of sight, and did swerve away from our collision course, but we were far too close to pull out completely (a situation I'm not unfamiliar with, as it happens…). Taking my hands from the wheel, I braced for impact.

The splash as we hit the Great Lake echoed around the hills and the castle towers. The wall of water we produced all but capsized most of the boats. We weren't worrying about that though; we were still speeding deeper into the lake, although slowing rapidly, obviously.

I found myself astonishingly calm. I know, I know – unbelievable, yes? Maybe so, but completely true. I have been nothing but honest with you; that is rather the point of a memoir, is it not? I still don't know exactly why I wasn't going out of my mind. I can only assume that I had gone through terror and hit the other side. Too paralysed with horror and fear to truly comprehend it. At least I would go with a certain amount of dignity, which was more than I could say for my erstwhile companion, still gibbering beside me.

The light seemed to vanish the deeper we sank, an all consuming blackness ahead of us. Rather appropriate, symbolically speaking. As I took one last look around me, however, I realised that I was still able to see through the murky water to my side. How could the light be around us, but not ahead?

About ten seconds after this thought crossed my mind we hit the giant squid, still travelling at a fair lick.

It was about as happy as you'd expect.

We left the water rather more rapidly than we had entered it, given a massive propulsion boost by the infuriated creature's powerful tentacles. The car was only mildly dented by its grip, but happily it had also performed some rough and ready maintenance on the engine. We weren't quite flying smoothly, but we would be remaining airborne for the immediate future. Naturally I remained calm and composed, and didn't scream at Ron to get us the bloody hell out of there. No, I said I was being honest, didn't I? Of course I screamed at him. I screamed at him until I was hoarse.

Then the squid followed us out of the water. The beady little eyes glowered up at us malevolently, and the thick tentacles whipped through the air, trying to snatch us back down. I wound my window down, and poked my wand out. A futile gesture, I know – my limited repertoire had nothing in it that could hope to deal with such a monstrosity. This hardly made me unique, of course; I doubted most of my classmates would have known what to do. I suspected that even Hermione would have been perplexed. Defence Against the Dark Arts seemed unlikely to cover such incidents even if the teacher was merely vaguely competent.

That said, I'd watched Cormac and Davies jinxing each other over the summer – nothing fancy, just a few harmless little spells – and I could just about remember the relevant incantations and gestures. As a tentacle clattered against my door, I poked it with my wand, spitting out a rough approximation of what Cormac had called the Tickling Jinx. It would be fair to say that it wasn't a roaring success; the squid shuddered for all of about half a second, letting out a simply frightful wail that I could only assume was supposed to be laughter. It was enough to get us away from it for a moment though.

We dipped down again, Ron now recovered enough to steer the bloody thing a little, and I was frankly amazed to hear the first years cheering us as we swooped over them. They seemed to think that we were trying to save them. I'm cynical, and pessimistic, but even I hadn't thought that people could be so oblivious to the blindingly obvious. They wouldn't have needed saving if it weren't for us, for God's sake!

The cheering left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, if we all came out of this alive, it would cement my heroic reputation pretty much forever. On the other hand… there was no way I could realistically retreat now. Not if I wanted to get even the merest sniff of a girl I wasn't paying for this year. Of course I was fairly sure there was no way we could realistically retreat at all given the state of the car, but that was a little beside the point. Wearily, I commanded Ron to bring us about. I've always known how to showboat, though I say it myself. As we charged toward the squid, I leant out of the window, yelling wordlessly at the top of my voice. Doubtless it sounded incredibly brave down on the water; only Ron and myself knew that I was all but pissing myself in reality.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

I didn't have a hope of truly paralysing it, unless by some miracle the spell managed to pass straight through its flesh and…whatever a squid has underneath its flesh and smack right into the brain – an unlikely prospect, I'm sure you'll agree. Sure enough, no such thing happened. I did manage to clip a tentacle with it though; the suddenly stiff flesh toppled from its path, smacking another out of the way and crashing back into the lake. I don't imagine it would have taken long for the spell to wear off but the monster was already being dragged below by the deadweight. With one last defiant roar it batted us away with another tentacle.

The impact shook us to the bone, and the engine sheared off completely. We soared through the air in a wide arc, approaching the Forest at speed. For the second time in far too brief a span, I was convinced that this was the end. Surely we couldn't survive impact with the rather more solid trees?

The fact that I am writing this many years later may well have tipped you off to the fact that we did actually survive the impact. We survived, in fact, because the tree bent as we hit it. Initially, I assumed that it was simply a rather springy wood, perhaps used in wands or something. Ron's whimper suggested otherwise. He knew exactly which tree we had hit.

I let out a quiet, almost resigned sigh as the Whomping Willow's branches wrapped around the car threateningly. Talk about out of the frying pan…

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Severus Snape and I had not enjoyed our time together during my first year, as I believe I've explained. Clash of personalities really; I thought he was an obnoxious, unpleasant git with a poor grasp of basic hygiene, while he believed that I was a fraud who relied on my celebrity status to get through life. The main difference between us of course was that I knew we were both right, while he would never have agreed with a single word I said. He had put me in detention more often than the rest of the faculty combined

So there was something bitterly ironic in the fact that he was the one to rescue me and Ron from the Whomping Willow. The tree had ensnared us in a vice-like grip, and we were both screaming our lungs out as it bashed us against the ground repeatedly. Our escape from the squid, relatively intact, had pulled me back from the hinterlands of terror into a more manageable level, with the natural result that I was actually able to recognise the state I was in. Short on dignity, if more therapeutic. Fortunately for us, Snape had clearly been watching the firsties approach for some sordid reason of his own. He appeared almost out of nowhere, his bat like cloak billowing and his wand raised. I don't know what spell it was that he used but electricity charged through the tree, making it spasm like a goblin in the early stages of alcohol poisoning (not a pretty sight, I assure you, but one you're fairly unlikely ever to see). We were saved! We were also, rather less happily, thrown across the clearing, where the car rolled over several times before grinding to a halt. I threw a dazed look out of my window, and cringed. The Whomping Willow was looking less than healthy, and the turf looked like it had been subjected to a lengthy and brutal rugby match. Ron leaned past me, and whistled.

"Oh boy… Snape is not going to be happy!"

"Oh, you think?" I snapped irritably. "Where's the trunk, we might be able to grab the Cloak before he sees it's us…"

No such luck. I had barely had time to turn around before Snape was at the car. I swear he'd done some sort of magical deal to stop people noticing him.

"Mr Potter. Mr Weasley. What an unexpected pleasure this is," he remarked with a glare. I mustered every drop of poise I could, and nodded at him breezily.

"Evening, sir. Good summer?"

"Out of the car, Potter," Snape snarled with a twitch of his wand hand. We hastily obeyed him. He surveyed us with his usual majestic sneer, a look I had long admired despite its origin. Nobody else I have ever met has been able to convey such contempt with just a curl of their lip. "Well, you are to be congratulated. The Hogwarts Express is nearly one hundred years old, and the tradition of communal travel to Hogwarts dates back centuries. Never has it been revolutionised as you have managed today, Potter."

"Well, it was Ron's idea really – " My bluster was futile, as you might expect, but this was a rare occasion when I was happy to let Ron take credit for his actions, and I wasn't going to let him down.

"Shut up. Perhaps next year all the students should pair up to an enchanted vehicle and fly across the country in full sight of anyone who cares to watch?"

"I'm not actually sure anyone saw us, precisely… it did turn invisible, after all."

Snape didn't seem impressed by this offering. "You are an arrogant fool, Potter. Just like your father. At least this time I will have the pleasure of expelling you." That was probably the first time he had genuinely smiled since he was fifteen and, as far as I'm aware, it was the last. We followed him into the castle fairly gloomily.

McGonagall was hurrying through the Atrium looking her usual cheerful self. She shot me and Ron a glare as she approached; she had never liked me.

"Severus, where on earth are you going? We're all needed down at the Lake!"

"Don't worry, Minerva – I think I've caught those responsible…"

McGonagall looked at him in confusion, then at us as comprehension dawned. I gulped, sadly audibly, and Snape sneered at me.

"Potter, am I to believe that this fiasco is your fault?"

I saw an opportunity here, and leapt on it. "Hardly, Professor! I think you'll find that we saved the firsties, nothing more!"

Snape laughed. Yes, laughter. Even McGonagall was surprised. "Potter, I doubt you could save yourself, never-mind several boat loads of students," he said with a curl of his lip.

How little he knew… "I swear, sir, it's the truth. Alright, we bent the rules a little in getting here, but it all turned out for the best, didn't it? Least said, soonest mended and all that." All complete rot, of course, but they had no way of knowing that. Not yet, anyway. I couldn't be sure that none of the firsties had seen us hit the water, what with the unreliable invisibility, but I was fairly confident at this stage. Given that we'd then at least appeared to come to their rescue, I was sure that any dissenting voices would be drowned out. I might be pleading my case to two of the most unsympathetic professors in the school but I genuinely thought I could rescue the situation. After all, not even Snape could read minds, surely?

"If you had nothing to do with it, then what so annoyed the Squid, may I ask?" Snape retorted, acidly.

I hesitated. I really had no idea what to say. Thankfully, Ron had an answer to hand.

"That time of the month?"

You can see why I valued his input. It did at least take the attention of me for a moment, as both professors united in informing Ron how utterly idiotic his response was, and how ashamed he ought to be of even thinking it. Which, I'll be honest, I didn't exactly disagree with.

"Mr Weasley's answer may not be strictly accurate, but who are we to judge what motivates such a creature?" another voice chimed in.

I'd been wondering when Dumbledore would arrive. I might have only met him once but I'd marked him down as a manipulative bastard there and then. It wasn't hard to work out. Nobody could hold that many political offices and not be a puppet master of some description. Have you ever met a truly honest and decent political animal? Didn't think so.

Snape was visibly restraining an urge to snap at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, obviously, I bow to your greater knowledge of these matters, but the Squid has been in the Lake for decades, and it has never done anything like this before. There must have been some external cause, and it seems obvious to me that it has something to do with this insolent brat!"

"Oh, on the contrary, Severus," Dumbledore replied serenely. He looked over at me. "I believe that Mister Potter is a hero. Perhaps not the hero we deserve, but the hero we need…"

Oh, there was definitely something off there. Just a slight hardening around the eyes. I was getting the distinct impression that Albus Dumbledore did not like me. I wondered why. Maybe he just disapproved of my lifestyle, although if that was the case he had never shown any inclination to stop me, or any of my friends. We weren't the first rich kids to debauch ourselves in and around Hogwarts. Interestingly though, Snape seemed to know what Dumbledore meant. He rolled his eyes in resignation.

"Maybe so, Headmaster. What is undeniable is that Potter and Weasley have either enchanted a car illegally, or stolen an illegal car. Either way, they are in dire need of punishment."

"No need to sound so excited," I muttered under my breath. I'll admit that I quailed under their combined glares.

"Professor Snape does have a point, Potter," McGonagall commented sharply. "Where did you get the car? I very much doubt you enchanted it yourself…"

Well, I could hardly complain about the assessment. But the day was taking its toll; I couldn't think up a convincing explanation for having acquired the car legally. I looked at Ron for inspiration, but all I got was a helpless shrug. It looked bad – flying an illegal car that we'd basically stolen. Then it hit me.

"Well of course, we knew the moment we saw it that it was contraband," I explained in ringing, confident tones. "We rather saw it as a public service, you know. Reclaiming dangerous property and putting it to good use, that sort of thing."

"Very impressive initiative, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "I must mention it to Cornelius, it's just the sort of scheme he'd approve of…"

Hardly a ringing endorsement – he was of course talking about Cornelius Fudge, one of the most famously awful Ministers for Magic that Wizarding Britain has ever seen. Given Dumbledore's very clear views on the man, it was becoming more and more obvious that Dumbledore was not happy about events. That was perfectly understandable; I just didn't understand why he wasn't threatening to expel me. Not that I was complaining, and not that I cared, so long as I got to stay, but it definitely struck me as odd.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "Professor Snape does have a point. Although you showed initiative, your actions were reckless. I leave it to Professor McGonagall to assign a suitable punishment."

"What are we going to do about the car, Albus?" McGonagall asked quickly. He shrugged.

"As we said, it is an illegal car, Minerva. Whoever owned it was doubtless a criminal themselves; I can't see them coming forward to try and reclaim it. I'll announce that it is here, and that if the owner wishes to reclaim it they can contact me: I'm sure I won't hear anything. And now, I think we really should get on with the Sorting, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, absolutely," McGonagall agreed sycophantically. She glared at the two of us. "Potter, Weasley, I will deal with you two later. Get to the Hall."

We fled, frankly unable to believe our luck.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

With the exception of the firsties, everyone was already seated when we arrived. The story didn't seem to have spread yet; we were met with curious stares, but not the furious whispers that would have greeted us had the tale of the Lake hit the rumour mill, whether in our favour or otherwise. This was excellent: it gave me the perfect opportunity to lay the groundwork for a positive account of the incident.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hermione hissed as I took a seat at her side.

"Oh, Ron and I have just been discussing the Giant Squid with Professor Dumbledore," I told her breezily. That got everyone's attention alright. Dumbledore was a very aloof figure to most, so any encounter with him was fodder for weeks of discussion. Meeting him about such an esoteric subject… that just sweetened the deal.

"Why were you talking to Dumbledore? What about the Squid? Why weren't you on the train?"

I held my hands up, nonchalantly stemming her tide of questions. "We weren't on the train because some complete pricks who will of course remain nameless -" I shot a vicious glare at Cormac " – didn't remember to wake us up this morning. We missed it."

Cormac merely shrugged. "Hardly our fault, Harry. You were really shagged out. Not surprising, let's face it. You really gave her a seeing to!"

"Well, I try," I responded modestly. "Anyway, I found us alternative transport, didn't I, Ron?"

"What?" He looked confused for a moment, as if he was going to say something contradictory and didn't quite understand the urge. Then he nodded amicably. "Yeah, he saw a car outside the Leaky Cauldron. Spotted what it was instantly."

I was impressed, not to mention gratified. Initiative from Ron – who would have thought? And in my favour as well. I'd trained him well.

"How could you drive to Hogwarts?" Neville enquired, a rare look of confusion on his face filling me with satisfaction. "And sorry old man, but I don't quite see what's so impressive about spotting what a car was – you grew up with Muggles, you're bound to know."

"We didn't drive, obviously," I retorted, laying on the sarcasm with a trowel. Longbottom flushed, and I grinned at him. "We flew."

There was a moment of incredulous silence, then Cormac let out a little whoop. "You flew a bloody car to Hogwarts? Potter, you star! That's going to go down in history!"

"Oh, you haven't heard the best of it yet…" I mentioned tantalisingly. I let the anticipation build for just long enough before dropping the killer. "The Squid attacked the firsties as we were flying over the Lake. We…well, I don't like to brag…"

Hermione snorted derisively, but nobody paid her any attention.

"What did you do?" Dean Thomas asked breathlessly.

"We went out for sushi!" I declared triumphantly. The reaction was not what I expected – I should have realised that sushi was not a popular dish amongst the Purebloods and plebs that I habitually associated with.

"Sushi?" Cormac asked.

"It's a specific way of eating fish," Hermione informed him drily. "Harry's trying to be funny, I think."

"Yes, alright," I snapped. "Not my fault if you lot aren't decently educated, is it? We attacked the bloody thing, what do you think we did? I wasn't going to stand by and just let them be drowned."

Before Neville clapped me on the back so hard that I'm positive he fractured my spine in at least two places, I saw Hermione raising an eyebrow, clearly dubious. After a moment though, she changed it for a vaguely smug smile. I never could get her to explain why.

I could personally have sat there drinking in the adulation for hours but McGonagall interrupted proceedings by bringing in the firsties, none of whom seemed too much the worse for wear after their earlier adventure. Several of them pointed at me, gasping and waving tentatively, and I basked in their appreciation. The Sorting was a tedious affair for those who had been through it themselves; I managed not to doze off but I'm fairly certain that was due to the trace elements of adrenaline still surging around my body. There were two new Gryffs of note: Ginny Weasley, who managed not to slip in the drool of the lascivious bunch of perverts I was proud to call my friends, and singled me out for a warm smile, and Colin Creevey, a small blond boy who wangled a seat just across from me. He fixed his wide eyes on me so intently that I still find it distinctly unsettling to remember – and I'm used to fanboys, believe me.

"Hi, Harry," he whispered adoringly. "I'm…I'm Colin."

"Hello…listen, just to clarify, I don't swing that way, so leave me alone, ok?" Alright, I leapt to a conclusion, but you should have seen the scrawny little tyke. Fortunately he didn't seem to understand what I was getting at. I had more important things to attend to, anyway. Dumbledore was singing my praises – not Ron's though. He barely merited a mention, in fact. You know, looking back, and despite the incredible misfortune he would one day cause me, I can't help but feel sorry for him sometimes. Absolutely no-one gave him a lick of respect, not even his family. I mean sure, he didn't deserve any, and he rarely seemed to notice anyway, but still. Being completely ignored by someone like Dumbledore pretty much marked him as a leper for the rest of his life, figuratively speaking. Still, all the more limelight for me I suppose, and nothing ever satisfied my appetite for that.

"As a reward for his undeniable bravery, I am pleased to announce that Harry Potter will be receiving a Special Award for Services to the School!"

The Hall rang with enthusiastic applause, and I stood up to take a bow, prompting a cheer from those in the Quidditch Set, amongst others. There were a few spoilsports; Draco Malfoy was seething quietly to himself, which just made it all the sweeter, and Snape had actually folded his arms. Also at the staff table, and applauding wildly, was an immaculately preened blond wizard, with gleaming teeth. It was immediately obvious that he liberally used the various potions and charms so common in the Wizarding World to enhance one's appearance. I was hardly one to criticise – I'd picked up a couple of charms to make my eyes sparkle a particularly effervescent jade, as opposed to their natural flat green, and my hair was quite definitely not glossy prior to my arrival at Hogwarts – but I was discrete about it. He looked like he'd used every product he could get his hands on. He looked vaguely familiar from somewhere.

"Who's that ponce?" I enquired as I sat down.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Hermione informed me with a slight hitch in her voice. "He's a real hero."

I looked at her balefully, but realised that she hadn't actually intended the barb; she was squirming in her seat, and I smirked.

"Good Quidditch player, is he?"

She frowned. "Yes, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Not much else gets you wriggling like that…"

Her blush was a thing of beauty. I looked back at Lockhart, and set out my stall early.

"Nancy boy, no doubt about it. I could take him." I wasn't just posing for the crowd; I really didn't believe that any serious hero would be that obsessed with their appearance. However, Neville shook his head in response to my boasts.

"Sorry, old chap, but I think Lockhart's just got the edge on you at the moment. Nothing to be ashamed of though! I mean, he's really worked at it, you know? Fought all kinds of monsters and come out on top. Haven't you read his books?"

"Why on earth would I do that?" I asked him.

"You mean apart from them being set texts this year?" Hermione enquired acidly, still stinging from my earlier jibe. I stared at her.

"How many books has he written?"

"Fourteen."

"So what's he doing here? He can't be that desperate for money!" I scoffed. Ron laughed dutifully, but I was met with shrugs from the others.

"Well, I suppose he's here to pass on his wisdom, that sort of thing," Longbottom suggested charitably.

"What, he's a philanthropist?" I let some of my natural inclination to doubt the existence of such a person show through in my words.

"Why not?" Hermione said heatedly.

"Balls," was my only response. She turned away in a fit of pique, engaging the Creevey boy in conversation. I turned back for another look at Lockhart. He was chattering away quite happily to Professor Flitwick, who looked rather irritated by it all. Given that the chirpy little midget usually had the attitude of a pixie on a Cheering Charm, that meant he was probably about one glass of Firewhiskey away from gouging Lockhart's eyes out with a dull spoon. A pampered, preening wizard, presumably rolling in cash, taking a teaching position at an admittedly prestigious school out of the goodness of his heart? A bigger load of bollocks I had never heard. There was definitely something fishy about him – I could practically smell it.

Naturally, I was already planning how to take advantage of it…